


Common Language

by Leronas



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Viktor's perspective, a tiny bit angsty, but i think the fluffly bits balance it all out, language barriers are an issue, post-Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leronas/pseuds/Leronas
Summary: Viktor is not very good with people. It doesn't help that his fiancé is one of the kings of overthinking, has anxiety, and that they don't have a common native language. Or do they? (A.k.a. the one where Viktor is trying to figure out how to get around the language barrier between him and Yuuri.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I keep getting new ideas for oneshots about YoI, so... might as well post them, right? Here, have another one! This is mostly Viktor trying to figure out how to get around the language barrier between the two of them, while trying to deal with his own insecurities about relationships, perfectionism, and doing "well" in social situations. This is set after episode 12, after Yuuri has moved to St. Petersburg. Enjoy ^^

“Give me a kiss, Yuuri” whines Viktor, circling his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

“I thought you’d only settle for gold. You’ll have to wait until the nationals” his fiancé answers, shaking off his arms and moving into the kitchen. Viktor is left standing in the living room, trying to figure out whether Yuuri is teasing him, or is genuinely upset. Either way, he should probably go and try to console him.

~****~ 

Sometimes Viktor says a thing and Yuuri gets angry. Or sad. Which is actually much worse. The worst part, however, is that Viktor doesn't usually know what he did wrong.

See, he isn't… very good with people. And that's an understatement. He barely ever needed to try before he met Yuuri: he's been a prodigy at figure skating, and nobody really cared about him personally. He never really had anyone to call a friend - he wasn't sure if Yuuri has ever realised how similar they were in that regard. Of course when your entire life has been about ice skating from the age of six, you don't really have time to build relationships.

His rink mates, maybe they could have been his friends, but again and again he messed that up: he was too much. Sometimes he was too selfish; other times too enthusiastic in a world where enthusiasm was barely ever genuine; now and then he was too extra and the people around him didn't like it. The other skaters in the field? First, they were too old - he was sixteen when he made his senior debut, the second youngest person in that year's Grand Prix senior men’s division was twenty -, later on they treated him according to whom they imagined him being. The idol. The record holder. The living legend of Russia. The guy to beat. The playboy. He never got to be Viktor.

So yes: since he has barely had genuine relationships up to this point in his life, and since his skillset when it comes to people consists of fake smiles and avoiding uncomfortable questions, it's hardly a surprise that he never seems to find the right words to use with Yuuri. And if his lack of people skills weren't making it hard enough for him, he has to do all this in English.

Of course he’s fluent in the language. He’s learnt it from a young age, he speaks very well and so does Yuuri. But even so, it’s neither of their native languages. Again and again Viktor finds himself having trouble expressing his thoughts the way they are in English. Sometimes there is a word that’s so perfect in Russian and it just doesn’t have a proper equivalent in English. Sometimes, even though he’s formulated his thoughts in English, not translated them from Russian, they’re just… not right. They are too distant, and somehow, once out of his mouth, not what he actually feels. He feels detached from them as the words leave him.

The only way he could truly explain his feelings is in Russian - but Yuuri barely speaks that, even though he is a very keen learner. He knows his fiancé is dealing with the same troubles: sometimes he explains something in English, looks at him, doesn’t see the reaction he expects, sighs, and starts speaking Japanese - and Viktor can’t understand him any better, but he knows it eases Yuuri’s mind to be able to say whatever he needs to say out loud, so he lets him. He is trying to learn Japanese, but he’s not doing any better than Yuuri is with Russian. (He’s a bit scared that they’ll never be able to learn each other’s languages well enough to be able to really communicate perfectly with their words, but he’s certain it would make it somewhat easier at least.)

So they both have troubles expressing themselves and understanding one another. It’s hard to have a fiancé with a different native language than your own. Yuuri is always making assumptions anyway, coming up with the worst possible explanation for any situation, often times coming to the most heart breaking conclusions involving their relationship, and while Viktor knows he’s not doing this on purpose - he’s learnt a great deal about anxiety since he’s gotten involved with Yuuri -, it makes communication even harder than it already is. When he explains his feelings clumsily - leave it up to Yuuri to completely misunderstand it and, in his anxious little head, turn it into something completely different. Sometimes the things he says get translated so badly - through language barriers and Yuuri’s anxiety - that they don’t speak to each other for hours.

This whole thing doesn’t really _ruin_ anything, to be quite honest. Of course it’s not easy, but for most of the time, they are actually perfectly well off and happy with each other. A lot of times they laugh at their language barriers when one of them doesn’t remember something simple or makes a funny mistake. It’s just…

Well, Viktor is not above insecurity himself. And when he messes up something in his relationship with Yuuri, he can’t help but remember all those times he made the wrong move in a social situation, can’t help but think about the fact that he barely has anyone because of the way he is. He was so desperate back in Hatsetsu when he asked Yuuri who he wants him to be; because he wanted, _needed_ to be perfect for Yuuri. To be the man he wants him to be, whoever that may be. And trust the Japanese to give him the hardest task of them all: just be you.

Viktor doesn’t know how to do that. Not properly, anyway: people don’t like who he actually is. He is perfectly aware of his shortcomings, and he knows exactly what people think of him. He is supposed to be perfect. He shouldn’t be flawed in any way. If his fans, his fellow skaters, the media, anyone seems him being less than that, he is a disappointment. So he plays roles, whatever they want him to play. He always has. Except with Yuuri, that doesn’t work, because Yuuri doesn’t want him to be the man he’s imagined him being, Yuuri wants him to be the man he _is_. And while in a way it’s exhilarating, he can’t help but be scared of it.

Because what if, after a while, Yuuri realises that he’s incredibly far from that image of perfection he’s always seen on the ice? That image of perfection that inspired him to skate? That image of perfection that he'd idolized for years? What if he finally sees all his flaws and thinks: why am I even wasting my time for this man? If that happens… what will keep Yuuri by his side?

Certainly not his words.

And so, when Yuuri’s anxiety is acting up, and Viktor says something wrong, and they don’t talk for a few hours, he gets swallowed up by his fears too. The ones he can normally ignore. He doesn’t know how to explain all this to Yuuri. He doesn’t think the words would come out right.

~****~ 

Yuuri carefully hangs Viktor’s newest gold medal next to the rest of them, now accompanied by Yuuri’s medals, along with his recent gold from the Japanese Nationals. They’ll be competing against each other at the Worlds this year, and Viktor can’t wait. Yuuri seems just as excited. Of course they already have their well-choreographed, well-practiced and well-received programs and their exhibitions and everything, and it’s not like he’d change anything mid-season, but there is a piece of music that Viktor can’t get out of his head. He’s humming it as Yuuri grins at him after closing the glass door of the cabinet.

“It’ll only be a short while before we run out of place for our medals and trophies” he says jokingly, and Viktor laughs heartily.

“I have had bigger problems than that.”

Yuuri seems to agree.

~****~  

Viktor loves music a lot. That’s probably not highly surprising, since he is a figure skater, he dances on the ice for a living. But music has always been a very important thing to him: his programs have almost always stemmed from the music itself, not really any particular idea. (Aside from the On Love programs. But that was an all different life situation.) He’s created stories that flew with the music, characters that he imagined while lying on his couch, listening to the music with his eyes closed. But with this piece, there isn’t really a story. It’s... feelings. He wants to dance to this music, maybe not in competition, maybe only next year, but he needs to show what it makes him feel, out on the ice.

Maybe... maybe this could explain things to Yuuri that he can’t seem to express in English.

~****~ 

As Viktor glides out onto the ice, the feel of Yuuri’s lips on his, he can’t help but smile. The rink is all theirs this afternoon: Viktor couldn’t wait a day more to show Yuuri what music he’s been thinking about for his next free skate. It’s quiet, as quiet as it gets in an ice rink, and he can almost hear his heart beating. He feels a sort of nervous excitement. He knows the feeling: it used to be a welcome guest before competitions when he was young, and it came back once more now that he returned to skating with Yuuri by his side. Now though there is only one person watching him, but it’s the only person who actually matters. Gold medals have stopped meaning anything a few years ago. He won too many of them, he climbed too high; the victories became too hollow to keep him going without anything else in his life. But then Yuuri came.

“Can I start it?” Yuuri’s voice flies through the cold air of the rink and Viktor closes his eyes, smiles, and nods. As the music starts, he starts dancing: for the first time in years, he doesn’t think about choreographies and routines and jumps and perfection. Even his programs this year were all about surprising the audience and making the most of himself, of being as perfect as he can possibly be... But this piece is different for some reason. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know what it is about this particular piece that reminds him of himself in this relationship with Yuuri. But it feels right.

And so he is dancing. He is making mistakes. He falls on a jump and gets up smiling. He lets the music carry him, he speaks the only common language that both Yuuri and him were born to speak.

When the music is over, he stands in a final pose, his right hand on his heart, golden ring shining in the cold light, head bowed. He wonders if Yuuri understands. He was certain when he came up with this, he was certain that the blades on the ice and the music and the dance is just as much a native language to Yuuri as it’s always been to him. He looks up, trying to assess how his performance affected the other man.

Yuuri is crying. Viktor isn’t sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

“Come here” the Japanese chokes out, and Viktor rushes to the side of the rink to meet him. Yuuri opens his arms, and Viktor smiles, relieved, and hugs him when he gets there.

“Me too” Yuuri says in a breathy voice, and Viktor laughs.

It seems that there are many other languages aside from the ones with words.


End file.
